
Class 
Book 



Copyright]^". 



5 05 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ROBERTSON 




SAN FBANCiSCO 



(0;CU259586 



CO 



COPYRIGHTED BY E. F. GREEN 
1909 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/versesOOgree 



TO MY MOTHER 

The most generous critic and the most 

loyal friend 



I am indebted to Life for permission to republish "Good-bye 
Summer," " The New Tantalus." and " Incurable," and to the Century 
Company for permission to republish "The Grewsome Girl." 



San Francisco, 
March, 1909 



INDEX 



PAGE 

A Fancy 43 

A Fragment 37 

A Legend 155 

A Sea Dream 25 

A Sea Song 65 

A Suggestion 49 

A Valentine 71 

A Valentine by the Aged 119 

A Whisper 15 

Affinity 21 

All Is Well 135 

An Answer 97 

An Easter Song 55 

An Idle 87 

Apology 145 

At Evening 19 

At Last. Dear Heart 189 

Baby of Mine 141 

Come, Will You Wed With Me 205 

Confusion 85 

Cradle Song 39 

Echo Song 187 

Envoy 171 

Evening 31 

Evening Soliloquy 151 

Good-Bye, Sweetheart 77 



PAGE 

Good-Bye Summer 67 

Heave Ho 53 

Ida at Her Knitting 89 

I'm Such a Peculiar Person 195 

Incurable '. 79 

In Memoriam 51 

Interlachen 59 

I Wouldn't Mind a Little Thing Like That 181 

King's Prerogative 177 

King's Song 175 

Legislation 203 

Life's Problem 23 

Loneliness 17 

Louise .^ 143 

Love's Message 69 

Love, Thy Pinions 179 

Mofning Song 191 

November 35 

Oh Days on the Golden Sands 211 

Once on a Time 161 

Our Lady of Dreams 129 

Over the Walnuts and the Wine 63 

Parting 33 

Relationship 29 

Requiescat 57 

Santa Glaus' Lament 163 

Serenade 159 

Song 121 

Song of the Princess and Lord Chamberlain 183 



PAGE 

Song of the Island Maiden 193 

Stephanie 139 

The Bells 27 

The Cynic Smile of Pan 103 

The Dicky Bird 199 

The First Love 109 

The Grewsome Girl 107 

The Little Old Man in the Moon 101 

The New Tantalus 95 

The Reason 73 

The Serenades 105 

The Stranger's Error 125 

The Unfortunate Ambition of McManus McNutt 81 

The Wail of the Pessimist 99 

The Young Man 201 

There's a Little Slight Objection 197 

To a Friend 147 

To An Octogenarian 41 

To Miss S 115 

To Mr. M 117 

To My Lost Love 75 

To My Niece Maud 91 

To My Wife 137 

To Two Friends 93 

To Yosemite 149 

Vanitas 113 

Will It Seem Less Fair 133 

You're It 207 

Yearning 173 



A WHISPER. 

Across the snowy mountain peaks 

Day comes and goes; 
The wind amidst the murmuring pines 

Or sleeps or blows; 
And, in the valley far beneath. 

When day is done, 
Some little life has ceased to breathe. 

Some life begun. 
"God's hour," they say; across the darkening land 
Sweeps the kind touches of a tender hand; 
And lo! upon the morrow, with the sun. 
Old seats are empty, and old faces gone. 



15 



LONELINESS. 

She was here but a moment ago, 
She stood by my side; and the sea, 

Tossing grandly and grey 

In the gloom of the day. 
Sounded out God's high message to me. 

The wind and the rain in my face. 
The lonely sand dunes and the shore. 

How I welcomed them, aye 

All the world's beauty lay 
In the place; and I asked for no more. 

She is gone — she will never return. 
The restless sea writhes to each moan; 

And the stricken dunes lie 

Vast, deserted, and I 
Am alone with the night; am alone. 



AT EVENING. 

A strange weird spell of sadness is upon me; 

A mingling of a longing and despair 
That steals from out the void above, around me, 

I know not how or where. 

I cannot weep, for tears are idle refuge; 

An awe has fallen over me, as when 
Some hand shall place me silent at God's footstool. 

Snatched from the haunts of men: 

And I shall know how little is my presence. 
The purpose and the power which I sought; 

The tiny hopes and fears and pains and pleasures: 
The prize so dearly bought. 

Ah, I would lay my head upon your bosom. 
Hiding my face, and for a moment seem 

The child again, with roseate life before me. 
This real life but a dream. 



19 



Or in its soft pulsations just forgetting 

The world and self, as one 
Face downward in the moss and fern and shadow 

Forgets the recent sun. 

But still the shadowy figure is beside me; 

I see it stand; I see it watch and wait; 
And weary I arise and struggling follow; 

For this, alas, is fate! 



20 



AFFINITY. 

From the deep shadow of our unjoined lives, 

At last we met together, you and I; 
Clasped hands; and, gazing in each other's eyes. 

Paused for a time and pondered, wonderingly. 
Why, in the mighty reaches of life's plain 

Our winding paths had never met before; 
How long they would commingle, and again. 

What time they would divide to meet no more. 
Thus pausing and thus dreaming, we forgot 

We had been strangers ever, seeing plain, 
Whate'er the future brought us, we could not. 

In all life's space be strangers e'er again. 



21 



LIFE'S PROBLEM. 

No doubt the world had gone wrong with him, 

His struggles idle, his efforts vain; 
A failure, crushed to the world's last rim. 

In a garret, purposeless, watching the rain; 
*'No wonder," the people said, burying him, 

"Of the pistol clapped to the brain." 

And he? From the midst of the spheres, somewhere, 
He watches the worlds in their play through space; 

They weave strange webs on the darkened air 
By the paths of their whirling that interlace 

And sparkle, and die and are born again 
As the pictures flash on his brain. 

And, out of the depths, for an instant, gleams 
One world's whole record; it meets his sight 

From birth to ending; the picture seems 
Like the sparkle of glittering beads of light. 

Each bead a cycle — and lo! in one 
His life had ended, his life begun. 



23 



He may have dreamed, when he thought he saw 

In this bead a dullness which marred its light; 
Perhaps his fancy that caught a flaw 

In the weaving the worlds flung into the night, 
And perhaps it was only an idle thought 

That out of the silence a whisper came: 
"Behold the universe cheaply bought; 

You were asked the price of a second's flame. 
One flash — and you gave it not." 



24 



A SEA DREAM. 

Loaded down to the water's brim. 

Sailing over the quiet bay. 
Far to the west, where the setting sun 

Gilds the close of a summer day. 

Sailing off to the land of dreams. 
Following fantasies still to be. 

Airy phantoms that beckon it on 
Over the breast of the summer sea. 

What lies back of the mist and cloud? 

Back of the west and the golden haze? 
Fairy palaces, fairy isles. 

Fairy measure of endless days; 

Rest forever for him who sails. 

Smoothly, quietly, far away. 
Out of the harbor, across the bar. 

Over the water, at close of day. 



25 



THE BELLS. 

On the silence and repose. 

Which the evening shadow throws 
O'er the city, ere it slumbers in embraces of the night. 

Breaks the chime of many bells. 

And the varying chorus swells 
In a rounding wave of music from the steeple's dizzy height. 

Light and joyous, solemn, slow, 

Sound the echoes, to and fro. 
Loud ascending, sinking, blending, till, at last, they die away; 

Ah, how many hopes and fears. 

Joyous hours, and days of tears 
Have been mingled with their music, since the bells began to sway. 

They, who rung them first, are gone; 

Like the echoes, one by one. 
Sinking slowly, dying, passing out beyond this world of ours; 

But the old bells, as of yore. 

Watch the sleeping city o'er. 
And, in measured intonations, mark the progress of the hours. 



27 



And, at times, they seem to say, 

In a sadly warning way. 
As their voices roll together in a solemn, deep refrain, 

"Time is passing; mark it well; 

And while here a space ye dwell. 
Labor earnestly and, dying, feel ye have not lived in vain. 



28 



RELATIONSHIP. 

"Und lehrst mich meine brueder, 
Im stillen Busch, im Luft und Wasser kennen." 

Lonely I walked, at night. 

In the fields, with the moon on the wane; 
All day long had the reaper, with song. 

Cut deep in the yellowing grain. 

Heavy and warm was the air. 

Quiet and silent, like one 
Weary with toil in the dry, dusty soil. 

And asleep when the daylight is done. 

For had come over me, at even tide, 
A restless spirit, and unquiet mood 
That drove me to the shadow of the wood. 
And the calm solace of the grain fields wide. 

And I heard voices; not of moving thing. 

But quiet whispers from the weeds and grass. 
And all the lowly orders that men pass 

In daylight careless and unnoticing. 



29 



And they held converse, in their own strange way; 

And I beheld a great life move them all 

In the eternal struggle and their fall, 
As though the weeds were men and night were day. 

Somehow I felt God's presence growing then 
More close about me in the evening air. 
And his warm breathing touch and move my hair; 

And I returned the purer among men. 



30 



EVENING. 

Silence falling. 

Crickets calling. 
Shrilly out from marsh and meadow; 

Far away. 

Where dies the day. 
Drops a mournful veil of shadow. 

Fragrance creeping 

Where lie sleeping 
Tiny wild flowers, softly bending. 

Bells of blue 

And golden hue 
And white and crimson interblending. 

Softly, slowly. 

Falls a holy 
Silence, as of prayer ascending; 

Sails are furled. 

And the broad world 
Rolls swinging into space unending. 



PARTING. 

There were tears in your eyes, as you turned them from mine. 
While we stood the last time at the wicket together; 

And I said to myself, "Pretty jewels, they shine 
For our parting to-morrow that may be forever." 

Down through the long walk, by the meadow of clover. 
We passed once again, ere I bade you good-bye ; 

The dark, silent shade of the elm trees hung over. 
And sorrowed with us, who in sorrow passed by. 

Ah, dark was the day and the hour when we parted. 

The soft, dewy grasses, the sunshine, the flowers 
Were symbols of joy; but we two, broken-hearted, 

Turned sadly away, for the joy was not ours. 

The rose-bud you charged me to keep as a token. 

Recalling the brief life of pleasure we led; 
With perfume all vanished and dead petals broken. 

Now lies but the symbol of hopes that are fled. 



33 



NOVEMBER. 

November, November; the dull dead leaves are blown 

From barren boughs, and everywhere 

A chill is on the frosty air. 

And the trees stand shivering, silent, bare, 
And the birds have southward flown. 

Across, on the hillside, where one lone farm-house stands, 

A thin blue line of smoke ascends; 

And where the smoke with twilight blends. 

It nods and wavers and bows and bends 
Like the beckoning of hands. 

No life is in the water. No life is in the wood. 

And now thou, too, hast turned to go, 

The summer, whom we joyed with so, 

And soon the ice and frozen snow 
Will lie where thou hast stood. 

Farewell, then, forever. I turn away alone; 

And darker, deeper falls the night 

About me, and below the height 

Glitters the town with a myriad light. 
And a rising wind makes moan. 



35 



A FRAGMENT. 

The touch of a breeze from the ocean. 
The glimmer of waves from the sea, 

A low rising moan, and the motion 
Of sails, where the fishers may be. 

And the shore is deserted and lonely. 
And across the wide reaches of sand 

No sound from dull chambers, but only 
Dead silence abroad in the land. 



37 



CRADLE SONG. 

Deep in the western gloom the sun is fading, 

On the cool air the busy noises die, 
All the grand hosts of heaven afar parading 

Kindle their signal fires across the sky; 
Now through the air the wavering smoke ascending 

Tells of the quiet, happy home and rest; 
Now to the fold the peaceful sheep are wending, 

Now sinks the baby head on mother's breast. 

Sleep sweetly baby, sleep sweet and rest. 
Pillowed securely on mother's breast; 
No care shall haunt thee, no fear attend. 
Sleep with the mother, she will defend. 

When on the past the shadows have descended. 
When over life has spread the twilight shade, 

Till at the last the toilsome way is ended. 
Gladly resigned the task with joy essayed; 



39 



Then, the long tale of strife and turmoil closing 
Comes the last silence, silence long and deep, 

Then the worn form reclines to its reposing. 
Droops the tired head at last in restful sleep. 

Sleep sweetly, worn one, sleep sweet and rest. 
Pillowed securely on Nature's breast. 
No care shall haunt thee, no fear attend. 
Sleep with the Father, he will defend. 



TO AN OCTOGENARIAN. 

On the edge of the grey 

Solemn verge of the day. 
The calm quiet hush of life's closing. 

Stand the feet that have trod 

Weary journeys to God, 
Longing now for life's rest and reposing. 

Years ago, hovv^ they stood. 

Those same feet, in the flood 
Of the sunrise of life pouring o'er them. 

And the still untried way 

To the ultimate day 
Lay bright in the valley before them. 

Is it solved for you now. 

Bended head, weary brow. 
Where the gray hairs repose, which were golden? 

Is the secret less strange 

In the struggle and change 
Of the new life to life that is olden? 



Ah, the limitless time. 

Ah, the new life sublime 
That will come for this old hfe's undoing. 

Then why tremble and fear 

As the threshold you near 
Of the life that awaits your pursuing. 

Gray-haired! Even so. 

As the years come and go 
They shall wait by the mystical river. 

Grown old to the past, 

But, in glory at last. 
Born heirs to the golden forever. 



42 



A FANCY. 

In a quaint old Alpine tower, 

Gray with sunshine and with shower, 

Remnant of despotic power 

Long ago; 
High, where flash the swallows winging 
An old painted dial is clinging. 
And the pendulum goes swinging 

To and fro. 

Far below me, faintly ringing, 
I can hear a child's voice singing; 
Far off, where the hills are springing 

Gleams the sea. 
And the village lies a-dreaming. 
Where the sunlit shafts are beaming. 
And the folks are sleeping, seeming; 

All, save me. 



43 



In these ancient walls that hold me 
Gently, as a nurse would fold me. 
While the droning tale is told me 

Still I lie: 
And the grey-beard, old and hoary. 
Wakes to action at the story 
Of his fame, his youth, his glory 

Long gone by. 

"Ah, you should have seen the struggle. 
Seen the hot blood boil and bubble. 
Dyeing all the yellow stubble 

On the plain; 
Casques were Hashing, falchions gleaming. 
Men despairing, women screaming^ 
Penons in the on-slaught streaming 

O'er the slain." 



"I could tell, ah, many a story 
Of that struggle; now before me. 
While you listen, comes the glory. 

Comes the grace 
Of a white-robed figure, kneeling 
Where the light falls dimmest, stealing. 
Slender hands and hair concealing 

Sobbing face." 

**And within, behind the oaken 
Studded door, their armor broken. 
Red and dusty with the token 

Of the fray. 
Grim, in silence and despairing. 
Only for the last blow caring. 
Stands the remnant of the daring. 

Lost that day." 



45 



"See! The door is inward battered! 
Case and lintel split and shattered! 
Blood upon the threshold spattered. 

On the stair! 
One by one the arms opposing 
Sink into a grim reposing. 
Knotted hands upon them closing 

In despair." 

"And that night above them trailing 
Golden calm to hush their wailing. 
Silently the moon went sailing 

To the west. 
Saying, 'They no more will borrow 
Trouble now for other morrow; 
They are silent, all their sorrow 

Drowned in rest.' " 



46 



"Then the flowers came, and the grasses. 
Hiding ail the well-known passes; 
Yonder gleaming torrent flashes 

Over one; 
And the wild hawks, undiscovered. 
O'er the ruins came and hovered. 
Castle ruins crowned and covered 

From the sun." 



47 



A SUGGESTION. 

Oh, careless heart, 
That still imagines fields supreme, elysian. 

Beyond the gold and azure of the day; 
Oh, careless feet, and all too careless vision. 

That spurns nor heeds the flowers upon the way. 
Heaven's lesser part. 

Look close at hand. 
The daily world, that smiles its modest blessing. 

The streams that, flowing gently, speak of rest. 
The breeze that bears within it a caressing 

Fresh from God's hand, are these not things at best 
Worthy to understand. 

Who will not see 
The love that lies about us every day; 

The dust and stones and heat and toil forgetting. 
Enjoying life's small gifts upon the way; 

To him will that strange land beyond life's setting 
More perfect be? 



49 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Be hushed, be still, oh, babbling words of science. 
Oh talk of creeds, oh pratter of wise lore; 

Draw breath and listen, for behold a timid 

Sweet learner passes to the vales you would explore. 

With shrinking feet, alone and unattended, 

No echo from the unresisting sod. 
Into the valley of the darkening shadow 

She fades, a spirit gone to meet her God. 

What meets her there? Would you not give to know it 
The hoarded wisdom that your volumes hold? 

Perhaps a touch, a kiss within the darkness, 
A start of waking wonder, and behold — 

Oh, simple faith. Why did we not obey you? 

Oh, love Divine. Oh, Father, tender, mild. 
How simple seems it now. An easy riddle 

Set for the guessing of a little child. 



51 



HEAVE HO. 

Heave Ho, merrily Ho, 
See the wind belly our sail! 

Heave Ho, merrily Ho, 
Look at the foam in our trail! 
There, on the shores where the houses be, 
A figure is waving farewell to me, 
And her eyes, they will follow me over the sea 
Till the light in the west grows pale. 

Heave Ho, joyfully Ho, 
Let the breeze follow us free; 
Heave Ho, joyfully Ho, 
Far to the south sail we; 
South to the seas where the islands lie 
Under an azure and melting sky 
Golden sands where the ripples die 
Faint from the slumbrous sea. 



53 



Heave Ho, wearily Ho, 
Mariner out of the west; 

Heave Ho, wearily Ho, 
Drop the stiff anchor and rest; 
Ah, but no figure upon the shore 
Gives hail to the wanderer, home once more. 
There's an empty cottage, and over the door 
A spider is spinning its nest. 



54 



AN EASTER SONG. 

Gone is the sun, below the verge descended; 

Gone is the sun; and come are night and gloom; 
Hushed are the joyous songs of birds and ended 

Life's happy hopes, enshrouded in the tomb. 
Rest, timid heart. Rest till the morning lightens; 

Dream not of doubt, dream not of doubt or pain; 
Lo, in the east, again the sunlight brightens. 

In golden glory day will come again. 

Hid in the earth the seed lies buried lowly. 

Pressed 'neath the sod, forgotten in the mold; 
Lost is the form and beauty of it wholly. 

Beaten by storms, enwrapped by winter's cold. 
Trust, timid heart. Trust in the future's bringing. 

Dream not of doubt, dream not of doubt or pain; 
Lo, from the soil the tender shoot is springing. 

Winter has passed and Spring has come again. 



55 



Shut is the soul, by fleshly confines bounded. 

Hid is the soul beneath the worldly sod; 
Deep in the gloom, by woe and sin surrounded. 

Lost is the shape and essence of a God. 
Wait, timid heart. Wait till the appointed hour; 

Dream not of doubt, dream not of doubt or pain; 
Lo, o'er the tomb the might of God has power. 

Gloom will dissolve and God be God again. 



56 



REQUIESCAT. 

Peace! Peace! Beyond the waves that break 
Tumultuous on life's troubled shore, 

She lies at rest, she will not wake. 
She will not strive forevermore. 

Her hands are folded on her breast. 
There is a smile upon her face; 

Ah, God, how perfect is her rest. 
How calm and quiet all the place. 

She does not hear the praise we bring. 
She does not heed our jarring wars. 

But silently, on angel wing 

She floats beyond the viewless stars. 

Come, leave the spot. We have no place. 
We living with this perfect rest; 

Cover the unresponsive face 

And leave her. She alone is blest. 



57 



INTERLACHEN. 

I looked from a tall tower in the town. 

And, in the distance, far as one might see. 
Caught the blue glimmer of a water's edge 

And dreamed "It is the sea." 
Below me lay the houses, baked in sun. 

And pigmy people darkened all the way; 
And the green hills rolled outward from the town 
And" in the cool blue distance, glory-crowned 

The Alps shut in the day. . 

An ivy clung upon the ancient wall, 

I knew it from the few stray leaves that lay 

In dusty slumber where the spider spun 

And the long lances of the yellow sun 
Moved slow and lazily. 

I felt the ivy cling about the stones, 

I listened to the great clock's hollow tones. 

As down and back the pendulum went swinging. 

And great tears dimmed my eyes, as, one by one. 

Weird figures came of men and seasons gone. 

And, from the shade below, a child's voice singing, 



59 



Green fields, blue waters and the sun. 
No change has come to one of you; 

Green grasses wave, clear waters run. 
And yonder sky has still its blue. 

But where are ye, O earnest hearts 

Who knew these beauties years ago? 

Who may have walked these grasses through 
Who may have sailed yon silent sea. 

Who may have dreamed, as now I do. 
Perplexed at life's great mystery. 

Can it be that the flowers and the grasses. 
Refreshed by the touch of the rain. 

Are the flowers and grasses of old time 
Recalled to their glory again? 



60 



Can it be that the lily I gather 

Holds, hid in its innermost cell. 
Some touch of the lily that faded. 

Crushed down when a warrior fell? 

Can it be that unto dust as men return 

Some cycle of great change 
Rolls onward, and the dust renews again 

A new life and a strange? 

But lo, below the mountain peaks the sun has set. 
And the child's song is hushed, and the long grass with 
dew is wet. 



61 



"OVER THE WALNUTS AND THE WINE." 

Over the walnuts and the wine 

Thoughts will go a-straying; 
Deep in the heart of the winter-time 

Love will go a-maying; 
And I dream, as I tip my glass. 
Of a day perfumed by the new-born grass 
And a shaded lane where the people pass 

And the children linger playing. 

I know a spot in this shaded lane, 

A nook in the hawthorn hidden 
Where the blossoms fall in a snow-white rain 

And the breezes kiss unchidden. 
A spot where all day one may lie 
With just a glimpse of the clear blue sky 
And just a song as the stream runs by. 

By the nodding lilies hidden. 



63 



And a face looks over the hawthorn hedge, 

A face that comes to chide me, 
While the snow lies white on my window ledge. 

And the fire burns bright beside me. 
Perchance I chose wisely to follow the track 
Where reason led, but where love held back. 
For fortune and honor are mine, but alack! 

My empty rooms deride me. 



64 



A SEA SONG. 

At sea, Love, 

To be. Love, 
Is half of life to me. Love; 

With vy^ind and spray 

To wash away 
The cares that should not be. Love; 

For, lo, the waste before us 

Gives back the merman's chorus. 
And soft dreams lie within the sky 

That stretches kindly o'er us. 

But you. Love, 

Pursue, Love, 
My thoughts the blue wave through. Love, 

Nor ever stray 

Far, far away. 
Though I am far from you. Love; 

For in the blue waves springing. 

Is echo of your singing; 
And soft the press of your caress 

To every breeze is clinging. 



65 



GOOD-BYE SUMMER. 

"Could it have been that last June was the time of it? 

Surely it was, or the first of July. 
Now that your question has put me in mind of it, 

Isn't it strange how the time has gone by?" 

*'Call on us when we return to the City. I 
Hope our acquaintance is not to end here." 
(Her Sister.) 
"Come, father's waiting, Grace, hurry and say good-bye; 
There, now he's off. Why, you're cr)ang. My Dear!' 



67 



LOVE'S MESSAGE. 

Here is a cluster of flowers. 

And the secret they carry. My Dear, 
Is mine; but will shortly be ours. 

If you'll hold them awhile to your ear. 
Not distant, as strangers might speak. 

And formal, but pressed let them be 
To the down of your beautiful cheek. 

While they whisper and tell you of me. 

I would, in their place, I might dare 

To tell what I send them to say; 
And, close to your billowy hair. 

While your eyes turn demurely away 
I might whisper my thoughts, for I know. 

Though friendly and faithful to me. 
No flowers could whisper just so 

As I, Love, would whisper to thee. 



69 



A VALENTINE. 

Let these roses, mignonette, 

Violets and daisies. 
Teach you never to forget. 

Wandering in Love's mazes, 
That another stands and waits 
Patiently without those gates. 

All within is bright to thee. 

All without is dreary; 
Open then the gates to me, 

I'll repay it dearly. 
Love the God is blind, they say; 
Let me in to show the way. 



THE REASON. 

Eleanor is young and fine. 

Truly so; 
Shall I ask her to be mine? 

Ah, no, no. 
Thorns too often hide where roses blow. 

Margaret, by the garden walk. 
Spies a hly on its stalk. 

And she bends above it. 
Crying, *'Ah, the lily; see. 
Is it not the flower for thee? 

Pure and white; I love it.** 
But I say, 
*'Come away. 
Thorns prefer, when perfume is to pay.*' 



73 



Aye, the rose is sweet, I ween. 
And the lily, on its green 

Stalk below. 
But I've found, the grasses under. 
One sweet little flower alone; 
And the people, still they wonder 
Why I walk in paths asunder; 
They will never wiser be 
If they wait to learn from me: 
'Tis enough I know. 



74 



TO MY LOST LOVE. 

Will it ever be we shall meet again. 

You and I in this earthly place? 
Shall I hear your voice, shall I touch your hand. 

And look again in your face? 

Look again into those deep, dark eyes. 

Whose fathomless meaning I longed to know. 

To read the secret their depths concealed. 
And you kept it hid, in the long ago. 

We will meet but as friends, when we meet at last; 

I will clasp your hand as you, too, clasp mine 
But the joy will be barren, Oh, Love, at best. 

The bitterest dregs of an unquaffed wine. 

It will be so. Yet I know, I know. 

This current that sets so strong, so true. 

Will find its goal in some future day; 
And I wait for that day and you. 



75 



GOOD-BYE SWEETHEART 

'Good-bye, Sweetheart." You said "Good-bye** 
And leaned to me across the stile. 

And there were tear drops in your eye. 
But on your lips a trembling smile. 

All bold enough I strode away; 

But somehow, as I climbed the hill, 
I could not help but glance your way 

To see if you were watching still. 

Too far it was to see your eyes. 
Too far to catch the tearful smile. 

Only to know, if that were wise. 
You still were leaning on the stile. 



77 



From out the woods the long train drew. 
And, through the meadow rushing down, 

Its shrill, defiant whistle blew. 
And passed into the distant town. 

But nought to me were field and wood. 
Wild train or wilder busy town. 

As in the chestnut shade the hood 

That from your hair had fallen down, 

I loosed again and saw your face. 
As backward to the house we went. 

Lose its strange trouble, pace by pace. 
And settle to a calm content. 



78 



INCURABLE. 

Said I, "If Koch, with mystic l5^mph 

Can slay the wild bacilli. 
And break the fierce bacteriae 

To harness, willy nilly, 
Perhaps, with proper focus, I 

Can learn the reason why 
I've lost my health and cannot sleep. 

And seem inclined to die. 

And so I set my lenses straight. 

With most especial care. 
And on my nervous system brought 

Their focal power to bear. 
And at the very slightest glance 

I found, alas! I had 
A case of Arabella Jones, 

And had it very bad. 



79 



THE UNFORTUNATE AMBITION OF McMANUS 
McNUTT. 

You would not have said, to have looked at him, he 
Was possessed in the very remotest degree, 
Of traits that were any wise notable, but — 
There was quite a good deal to McManus McNutt. 

He was not a beauty; that all would admit. 
His ears were too large and his feet didn't fit. 
And you never could tell where he fastened his eyes; 
But his efforts in art were a constant surprise. 

For McManus McNutt had a musical soul. 
Which he constantly poured through a very small hole; 
And his neighbors remarked, as he tooted his toot, 
"He's an angel, or ought to be — he and his flute." 



81 



And when Mr. McNutt was incited to song. 
The whole of the twenty-fifth precinct went wrong; 
You could hear the remarks from the first to the sea. 
And 'twas that caused the riot in avenue *'D." 

"Thorough Base," said McNutt, "I am learning each day.'* 
"Is it second or third," said a friend, "that you play?" 
"Neither one," said McNutt, "I'm just learning to sing." 
And they tried him on second just once in the spring. 

" 'Tis not to his efforts objection we find," 
Said his intimate friends, "We would not be unkind; 
And we do not protest at the means he employs; 
But he constant keeps up such a H — of a noise." 

"And we think, and we very suggestively say. 
That when Mr. McNutt is inspired to play, 
And to burst into song or render those airs. 
He ought to go out and perform to the bears." 



82 



Now McNutt didn't go and the noise didn't stop. 
Till the imminent crisis at last took a drop; 
And thereafter calm peace settled over things, but — 
'Twas a peace that was visibly minus McNutt. 

MORAL 

'Tis a troublesome thing when a man has a brain 
That causes his neighbors' affection a strain; 
And a dangerous state of the atmosphere springs 
From a small inspiration with five-dollar wings. 



83 



CONFUSION. 

Pretty Jennie came to me. 
Anxious, seeking information. 

*'Show me, Richard, will you please. 
What is meant by osculation?'* 

What could mortal man as I 

Do in such a situation. 
Father, Mother, no one by; 

Liberal views, a strong temptation? 

Jennie is my cousin, too. 

So, to please my young relation — 
*'Oh, you horrid thing, there now, 

I referred to occultation.** 



85 



AN IDLE. 

He sat on the shore, as the sun went down, 

Went down in the depths of the wide, wide west; 
To a chance observer it might have seemed queer 
That he didn't go home, as the night drew near. 
But he didn't, and therefore it might appear 
That the sitter himself knew best. 

Fie sat on the shore when the morning sun 
Shone out from the east over sea and land. 

He sat, I remark, as the sun arose, 

On the very same spot where he sat at the close 

Of the previous day; and the Lord only knows 
Why he did it, I don't understand. 

Perhaps he was searching for coral reefs; 

Perhaps he was trying to keep him cool; 
Perhaps the breezes from over the sea. 
As they toyed with his tresses, said, "Come to me.'* 
The field of conjecture is wide, you see. 

Perhaps he was only a fool. 



87 



IDA AT HER KNITTING. 

Clothed in red, the chair behind her. 
Large and cosy for her sitting. 

Here I enter, and I find her. 
Cousin Ida at her knitting. 

O'er the work her head is bending. 
Quickly, light the fingers flitting; 

And I wonder are there blending 
Pleasant fancies with her knitting. 

There perhaps are fields of clover. 
Summer odors, swallows flitting. 

Evening shadows, and a lover 

Mingling with this dainty knitting. 

Yes. The smile, the blushes show it; 

Dainty blushes mounting, flitting. 
'Tis some lover. But I know it 

Is not I. So hang the knitting. 



89 



TO MY NIECE MAUD. 

You are young. Oh niece Maud. You but newly 

Are born; and I know you'll allow 
That I can't be expected to truly 

Be greatly impressed by you now. 

You are young, and I might say bald-headed. 

Lack teeth, and your color is high; 

And you have. Ah Mon Dieu, as I dreaded, 
A strong disposition to cry. 

You are young, and of course are delighted, 
(See Pope) with a rattle or straw: 

While I, your dear uncle, am knighted, • 
A counsellor, learned in the law. 

I repeat, then, 'tis not to be looked for. 
Admiration from me. Dearest Wench, 

While you baby-kingdom are booked for. 
And I, it may be, for the bench. 



91 



But wait, oh niece Maud, for time's flying; 

Have patience. Revenge will be sweet 
When they, who your toes are now guying. 

Will kneel as your slaves at your feet. 

And I — I shall flee from the dreaded. 

Perhaps from the merited chaff; 
For I shall lack teeth, be bald-headed. 

And you — Ah Mon Dieu, you will laugh. 



92 



TO TWO FRIENDS 

(On receiving their photographs. ) 

Though, forsooth, no gift was due me. 
Since you kindly send me one. 

May I ask nymphs if, beshrew me. 
Pictured forms are all I've won? 

I should grieve, if I imagined 

All these lengths of happy days 

Could be measured by the limning 
Of a few collected rays. 

And that while I dreamed, conceiving, 
"Lo, I own them every one." 

Waking, I should simply find me 
Debtor to the fickle sun. 

No. Full thanks for these two faces 
But, at best, when all is said. 

Let me whisper I'd prefer it 
If you'd sent yourselves, instead. 



93 



THE NEW TANTALUS. 

He discourses on astronomy with very best intention, 
And mentions many matters I'd not previously known; 

But, for some especial reason I have no desire to mention, 

I should much prefer the garden with Matilda all alone. 

The balmy air is odorous with perfume of the flowers. 
And the moonlight on the terrace is most beautiful to see; 

But professor is excited, and I know he'll talk for hours. 
While Matilda's in the garden all alone expecting me. 

It's well, of course, to know about these subjects; the propriety 
Of telling which is Saturn, and the distance to the moon 

Is obvious; it gives a certain standing in society; 

But, somehow, on this evening I've a great desire to spoon. 

O moon, O stars, O milky way! I care not for your density; 

Your perigee and apogee possess no charm for me ; 
Look down, look down in pity from your silent, vast immensity 

And let me join the figure there beside that apple tree. 



95 



AN ANSWER. 

(Written for a young lady named Rose, as her answer to an 
ancient who had sent her some amorous verses.) 

I don't care a D 

For an ass or a clam, 
And therefore. My Excellent Poet, 
The sequence is true 
That I don't care for you. 
And I think it is time you should know it. 

When the season has come 

That one tooth in the gum 
Is all that one's smiling discloses. 

It is time to retire. 

My Dear Sir, to the fire; 
The winter's no season for roses. 



97 



THE WAIL OF THE PESSIMIST. 

Oh, the world that my infancy pondered 
As I lay in my cradle and wondered; 

How it passed in surprise 

By my wide open eyes. 

From the great fearful cat. 

To my father's tall hat; 
These are not now as strange as they might be; 
My father's hat does not affright me; 

And the cat only serves 

To impinge on my nerves 
As it wails in the back garden nightly. 

Oh, the joys that in boyhood were brimming. 
The hunting, the fishing, the swimming; 

The plunge, after school. 

In the wide, quiet pool. 

Just above the old mill 

Where the lilies lay still; 



99 



I don't think this now would delight me; 
I know that the leeches would bite me; 

There would follow a chill. 

And a large quinine pill, 
And red flannel around the throat tightly. 

Oh, the girl that my youthfulness courted. 
As under the green-wood we sported; 

The blue lender eyes 

With their glance of surprise; 

The hand that I took 

With so loving a look; 
I can't call her married name rightly; 
They say she is far, far from sightly; 

Of her eyes of deep blue, 

One is glass, and her hue 
Is carnation. I dream of it nightly. 



100 



THE LITTLE OLD MAN IN THE MOON. 

The little old man in the moon, Ha, Ha! 
Has come with an appetite hearty; 
Has come all the way from the land which, they say. 
Lies far out of sight in the depths of the night. 
All gloomy, and lonely, and quiet; 

He has brought his large spoon. 
And he's come none too soon. 
For the stars are all fat. 
And they're plenty, at that; 
And I know, if he tries. 
He'll improve on his size. 
For stars are an excellent diet. 

The queer little man in the moon. He, He! 

Is satisfied, jolly and cozy; 
For his stomach has grown till he can't walk alone. 
But he rolls all the day in a singular way. 

Like a large rubber ball, but more cheerful; 



101 



He's quite happy, you see. 
But it wouldn't suit me. 
For I know that his size 
Is a source of surprise, 
And if fatter he grows 
He cannot see his toes, 
And that, I should think, would be fearful. 

The sad little man in the moon. Ho, Ho! 

Has come to a very hard trial; 
For the stars are all gone, and he hasn't left one; 
He has eaten them all, both the great and the smal 

The great big bear star and its brother. 
A week now has passed 
Since he ate up the last. 
And he's gone without dinner 
And grown so much thinner 
That I fear, by and by, 
He'll not be in the sky. 

And we'll have to go look for another. 



102 



THE CYNIC SMILE OF PAN. 

From out the cushioned easy chair 

I study the luxurious room; 
The light is shaded, and the air 

Made heavy with a rich perfume; 
And, waiting for my lady, I, 

From dreamland, suddenly descry. 
Behind a screen, a bust of tan. 

And catch the cynic smile of Pan. 

My lady comes; the airs, the grace 

Are perfect in her, and I vow 
I never saw a sweeter face. 

Or loved a maid as dear as now; 
With reverent homage on my lips, 

I kiss her dainty finger tips. 
And raise my eyes her face to scan. 

But catch the cynic smile of Pan. 



103 



And so through life as it has been, 

And so through life as it may be, 
Perchance I find the painted screen 

Whence something mocking looks at me. 
Perchance Dame Nature builds my life 

On such a settled, subtle plan. 
That always, back of pleasant things, 

I catch the cynic smile of Pan. 



104 



THE SERENADES 

(Scene I. Time, 10 p. m.) 
Oh, maiden, fair maiden. 
The stars are shining bright. 

And I, Love, am nigh. Love, 
To woo thee out to-night. 
Then haste thy sweet repl5ang. 
The summer night is dying. 
Come forth and ease my sighing. 
Come forth, my Soul's Delight. 

(Scene II. Time, 10 a. m.) 
Oh, Doctor, dear Doctor, 
Give me an herb or pill; 

For I, Sir, must die. Sir, 
If I can*t check this chill. 
There's fun, no doubt, parading 
All night, and serenading; 
But there's no fun in trading 
A Cupid for a squill. 



105 



THE GREWSOME GIRL. 

She was a charming little girl, 
With hair that fell in one long cue; 
And she was meek as meek could be. 
But when, one day, she came to me 
And said, "I done it" for "I did," 
Down from my nose my glasses slid, 
I opened very wide my eyes — 
I did this to express surprise — 
And said, in voice that grewsome grew, 
"This will not do." 

She often folded in her lap 

Her hands, and like a saint she seemed; 
She sat for hours and hours that way. 
But when, one day, I heard her say 
"I seen it," when she should have said 
"I saw it," I but shook my head. 
Took my galoshes from the shelf 
And in the rain walked by myself. 

Remarking, "She's not what she seemed, 
I dreamed, I dreamed." 



107 



Oh, little girls with yellow hair. 
And angel looks, beware, beware! 
Be very careful what you say. 
Don't drive your dearest friends away 
By fearful grammar; and when you 
Don't know exactly what to do. 
Or say — say nothing. No real saint 
Was ever known to say, **I ain't." 



108 



THE FIRST LOVE. 

The old chestnut tree at the window 

Was leafy with joy of the June, 
And the crickets, from over the play-ground, 

Sang merrily out to the noon. 
When, clad in pink frock and sun-bonnet. 

Looking bashful, but sweet and so cool. 
You came, Susan Miggs, with your mother. 

To enter the old district school. 

Ah, sad was my heart, when I pondered 

On the chasm I saw intervene 
'Twixt a girl who was neat and so pretty. 

And me, who felt far, far from clean; 
For my every-day hat, it was brimless, 

I was wearing no shoes, and, although 
I knew not correct styles in trousers, 

I felt mine were not comme il faut. 



109 



But I kept a brave heart in my sorrow, 

I did what I felt was the thing 
To win your regard, and I struggled 

As heroes have fought for their king. 
For out on the play-ground at recess. 

In a careless and nonchalant way, 
I stood on my head and pretended 

It was something I did every day. 

What days ere I dared to address you, 

What days ere I felt it was right 
To bring you an apple. I stole it, 

And was whipped for your sake that same night; 
And then, by a process so subtle 

I never could quite understand. 
We had fathomed each other's deep feeling. 

And walked home from school hand in hi*nd. 



110 



Ah, days of the pure, young affections! 

Could I feel as I used to feel then, 
Susan Miggs, life would carry some value- 

I should be as a king among men. 
But try as I may, and I have tried 

A thousand or more times, I think, 
I cannot enkindle a rapture 

For tender young maidens in pink. 



Ill 



VANITAS. 

"Vanitas! Yea, Vanitatum!" 
Monk, the song wells forth full surely 

From your heart, I do believe it, 
As you pass me by demurely. 

With bowed head, and downcast eye, 

Rapt in earnest ecstacy. 

" Vanitas ! Yea, Vanitatum ! " 
Ah, but do you really mean it. 

As you look into the shadow 
Of the world as you have seen it? 

In the days when love was young: 

Days when other songs were sung? 

" V^anitas ! Yea, Vanitatum ! " 
Even as your voice may cry it. 

Comes a sweet face from oblivion. 
Rising softly to deny it. 

And so full of love it glows! 

Monk, what means this faded rose? 



113 



TO MISS S. (a stranger.) 

I cannot write a verse to you, 
Pray think me not a dunce. 

But kindly bear in mind that I 
Have only met you once. 

I cannot write a verse to you. 
And, faith, with muse so ailing, 

I shall not be surprised to hear 
You thank me for thus failing. 



115 



TO MR. M. (a Scotchman.) 

Of old, when the lion emitted a wail, 

'Twould be found, upon closer inspection. 
That a piece of Scotch thistle had stuck in his tail. 

Which, of course, would explain his dejection. 
But now that the rose and the thistle are one. 

Combined in a peaceful communion. 
The ostrich and eagle advance hand in hand 

To dance at the fortunate union. 



117 



A VALENTINE BY THE AGED. 

I hope. Dear, you'll remember, when you gaze upon these flowers. 
That they represent much labor, though their voices may be 
dumb ;^ 

Why, after I had gathered them, I must have sat for hours 

Endeavoring vainly to extract the thorns from out my thumb. 

I didn't know the grass was wet, till I had waded through it. 
And I had my carpet slippers on, and my dressing-gown as well ; 

And Jane has asked me frequently, "How I ever came to do it." 
Which, really, when I think of it, I find it hard to tell. 

I've caught a most distressing cold, my back and legs are aching. 
And my dressing-gown is ruined; it was pongee of the best: 

And I fear I have the prospect of a week or more of shaking. 
With mustard baths and quinine and a plaster on my chest. 



119 



I wouldn't mind, if I could feel you'd cherish these, my flowers. 
Or would think upon me kindly as I sit with aching bones; 

But I strongly am inclined to think you'll keep them a few hours. 
Replacing them by others from that worthless fellow Jones. 



120 



SONG. 

Did you ever see a man with his legs so thin 

You thought he'd break them off; 
With a melancholy whisker on his chin. 

And a hectic midnight cough? 
I knew such a man, when I was young. 

In the town from which I came; 
And you thought he'd do, till he handed you 

A card which bore his name. 
For his name was Reginald Archibald Prettyman, 

Why, I never could tell. 
He wasn't built for a name like that. 

And it did not suit him well. 
You might have called him Smith or Jones, 

And not felt bad at that; 
But to call him Reginald Archibald Prettyman 

Makes you feel so flat. 



121 



Did you ever see a woman who has grown so fat 

She does not walk but floats; 
With a forty-seven collar and a two-inch hat, 

And a waist hke a bag of oats? 
She cruises along in an armor-plated way 

Without a thought of shame; 
And it makes you ill when you hear the people say, 

"Why, there goes What's-Her-Name." 
For her name is Constance Daisy Willoughby, 

Why, I never could tell; 
She wasn't built for a name like that. 

And it does not suit her well. 
You might have called her Smith or Jones, 

And not felt bad at that: 
But to call her Constance Daisy Willoughby 

Makes you feel so flat. 



122 



Did you ever see a man with his legs so short. 

He has not an inch to spare; 
A rolly-poly figure and a simple sort 

Of half-done, childish air? 
He may be small and of no account. 

But he isn't all to blame. 
And it's hard on him to carry around 

A proud, historic name. 
For his name is Caesar Bounaparte Hannibal, 

Why, I never could tell; 
He wasn't built for a name like that. 

And it does not suit him well. 
You might have called him Smith or Jones, 

And not felt bad at that; 
But to call him Caesar Bounaparte Hannibal 

Makes you feel so flat. 



123 



THE STRANGER'S ERROR. 

Of course, I hain*t a-sayin' 

That for preachin' and for prayin' 
The camp at Eagle Corners is entitled to a prize; 

But I says, and says emphatic. 

That perliteness is our racket. 
And the feller what denies it — ^well, them fellers mostly dies. 

Now the styles and fashions changes 

With the places where you ranges, 
And the style of Rome or Paree ain't the Corners' style at all ; 

Just to hear the langwidge showed it. 

And the stranger might hev' knowed it 
'Fore he went a-learnin' manners to a man like Squint McCall. 

Squint, he owned the Susan Smily, 

Back of Dead Horse, him and Reilly, 
And the stranger come to buy it, leastwise that was what was said ; 

For the stranger he kept quiet. 

Didn't say so nor deny it 
Till we come to meet him later, but by that time he was dead. 



125 



Mac of course explained it fairly; 

Said he seldom, very rarely, 
Had occasion to deprive a feller critter of his life; 

But the thing that set him crazy 

Was to hev' that two-bit daisy 
Tellin' him it warn't proper to eat taters vs^ith his knife. 

"There he sot," said Mac, a-fillin' 

Of his pipe, "And I was willin' 
To've accommodated of him to most anything he'd ask; 

Special effort hed been makin'. 

There was extra beans and bacon. 
And some long cut and some very extra whiskey in that flask. 

But by gum! he wanted towels; 

Said the whiskey hurt his bowels; 
And he asked fer eggs, as though I'd go and git 'em off a goat. 

And on what particular member 

Jumped the beans I disremember. 
But the 'baccy was a most etarnal pisen to his throat. 



126 



And the bunk, it didn't fit him. 

And the fleas or somethin' bit him; 
And about the time he went to sleep I called him to git up: 

And the mornin' air was chilly. 

And the country was too hilly. 
And the dinged old dog she bit his leg for foolin' with her pup. 

So he constant kept on rilin' 

Of my humor, and a-spilin' 
My intentions till by supper I was snoopin' round fer strife; 

And he said, 'Well, well, I never! 

It is really deuced clever, 
You are eatin' them pertaters and you're swallerin' your knife.' 

Then I thought fer just a minit'. 

And the next — well, we was in it; 
And if he'd had sand it might hev' bin the purtiest kind of fight; 

And the cause of the incision 

In the stranger, it is his'n, 
Fer lackin' the first principles of how to be perlite." 



127 



Then us fellers got together, 

And we argified it whether 
There was any special question how the stranger went and died. 

And it seemed O'Hara's motion 

Kinder struck the general notion 
That the stranger had been guilty of determined suicide. 



128 



OUR LADY OF DREAMS. 

When the feast is resplendent and glowing. 

With laughter and wit at their best. 
And the v/arm southern vintages flowing 

Unlock the best thoughts of the breast; 
When come are the moments elysian, 

And life like a fairy tale seems. 
There enters a something — a vision — 

A thought of "Our Lady of Dreams." 

Her hair is done up in curl papers, 

Her hands on the coverlid lie. 
And you catch, by the light of the tapers, 

The gleam of a threatening eye; 
There's a calmness that will not dissemble 

Where the night light burns constant and dim, 
A cold, deadly calm — and you tremble. 

For you know she is waiting for HIM. 



129 



You know she Is waiting to ask him 

The hour when he deigned to arrive; 
With the stern, barren truth she will task him. 

For she knows it is quarter-past five; 
And she wishes to urge the suggestion 

How such conduct to decent folk seems; 
He's averse to discussing the question 

Advanced by "Our Lady of Dreams." 

She speaks not. He muses on whether 

He'd feel quite as bad if she spoke; 
And he tries to improve on the weather 

By telling the latest new joke. 
A something whose recent disclosure 

Awoke the boys' laughter to screams ; 
It dies of indecent exposure 

When told to "Our Lady of Dreams." 



130 



O Angel that's given to guide us 

Adown the long pathway of life. 
Remember the pleasure denied us. 

We can't be a suffering wife. 
And think, in the midst of your scorning. 

In the midst of your innocent dreams, 
O think of his head in the morning. 

And pardon — "Our Lady of Dreams.*' 



131 



WILL IT SEEM LESS FAIR. 

When the flesh falls from me and I am I, 
With the wonderful spaces to wander through. 
The dreams to dream and the deeds to do 
That may not or cannot be pictured here. 
Will the world, I wonder, appear less dear. 
The little brown world that I one time knew? 

When the great wide spaces are mine indeed. 
With all of the glory that blossoms there. 
The high, pure thoughts in the quiet air. 
And the spirit faces that glisten so. 
Will an earthly face that I used to know, 
A wistful face — Will it seem less fair? 



133 



ALL IS WELL. 

The salt waves, tireless, beat upon the sand 

As beat the waves in ages long before; 
The giant pines within the forest stand 

Hushed with the memories of days of yore; 
And, wiser with the knowledge born of years, 

To the ephem.eral race of men that dwell, 
A moment's space, they bring a truce to tears. 

Bearing the constant message, "All is well." 

The wondrous planets, whiter than the dawn. 

Swing through the universe; with patient gaze 
They mark the new world clusters glowing born. 

Or note a stricken world's expiring blaze. 
And, to the ephemeral pine trees and the sea 

That on the twinkling worlds a moment dwell. 
They send their deep-toned notes of sympathy. 

Bearing the constant message, "All is well." 



135 



O soul of man, that woke with the first pine! 

Or listened first to the great ocean's roar! 
What myriad lives between thy days and mine 

'Neath that same pine or on that self-same shore! 
Still down the corridors of time they fare, 

That host, whose goal the silence will not tell; 
Only from sea and shore, and outer air. 

Is borne the constant message, "All is well." 



136 



TO MY WIFE. 

The years are gliding by, Dear, 

And you and I must wend 
Our paths together now. Dear, 

Together to the end; 
And sweet it is to me to glance 

Down these long years of life 
And know that you will walk by me 

Forever, My Dear Wife. 

When youth's first strength I felt. Dear, 

With all the world to face, 
I dreamed of fame and name. Dear, 

I thought of power and place; 
But only one thought holds me now. 

But one dream thrills me through, 
A sweet and quiet home. My Love, 

Where I can be with you. 



137 



I had no thought of God, Dear, 

I did not care to know 
What other worlds there were. Dear, 

Where I might some day go; 
But now I hope, and, hoping, feel 

That through eternity. 
In happy heavens that lie beyond 

I still may walk with thee. 

Then take these passing words. Dear, 

As tribute from my heart; 
They may be simple thoughts. Dear, 

And told with little art; 
But you have filled my barren life 

With wealth it never knew. 
And I would fain express, in turn, 

The love I bear for you. 



138 



STEPHANIE. 

*'Come," he remarked, "on Sunday next, 
And spend the day and night with me; 

It's sweltering here, and wife will be 
So pleased, and so will Stephanie." 

So I obeyed. And as I rode. 
Hour after hour, in fancy free, 

I mused on many things, but most 
I mused on unknown Stephanie. 

Light? Dark? I wonder. Light, I hope; 

Eyes deep and tender as the sea; 
Soft hands, small form in lawn enwrapt. 

The guileless, lovely Stephanie. 



139 



To-night the moon will be at full: 

I wonder now if, after tea. 
We two will stroll in calm content 

Together, I and Stephanie. 

Soft will the air be, soft and calm: 
Shadows will lie across the lea; 

At peace all nature; and at peace 
I with the witching Stephanie. 

From the wide fields will float a haze; 

The toads will chirp from tree to tree; 
And all the air will ring with notes 

Of crickets calling Stephanie. 

The place at last! The hot train throbs; 

I stroll the lane, the house I see. 
And there mine host and family. Gods! 

I will NOT stroll with Stephanie! 



140 



BABY OF MINE 

What do you see with the big blue eyes, 

Baby of mine, of mine? 
Wonderful things in the wide blue skies. 

Baby of mine, of mine. 
Wonderful things when the sun is high. 
And the day is warm, and the clouds float by. 
And wonderful things when the swallows fly 
And the long day slowly dies. 

I wish I could see it again with you. 

Baby of mine, of mine. 
The long dear journey again go through. 

Baby of mine, of mine. 
That God could take me and lead again 
That wonderful walk down the long, long lane. 
From babyhood wonder through youth's dear plain, 
To the fields of sober hue. 



141 



I envy you, baby, the way that lies, 

Baby of mine, of mine, 
Under the blue of the beautiful skies. 

Baby of mine, of mine. 
I envy you, baby; but it may be. 
When free is the spirit and eyes can see, 
A way more wonderful waits for me, 
A way through paradise. 



142 



LOUISE. 

Down by the shore where the willows grow, 

In the spot we both have known, 
I am sitting again in the sunset glow. 

But alas! I am here alone; 
The wild birds call to the nesting mate, 

And the swallows wing them free. 
And they tell of the days that are gone. My Love, 

Of the days that are gone with thee. 

Louise, Louise, the river still is flowing. 
The sunlight's kiss is on the silent sea. 

And every breeze across the meadow blowing 

Repeats my cry, "Come back, come back to me." 



143 



Still is the wild-wood path the same. 

Where my tale of love I told; 
And across by the creek all the sumacs flame. 

With the brave, gallant flame of old. 
Dear Heart, I have wandered the wide world o'er. 

And have learned all that life may be; 
But again I have come to the old, old place. 

And my cry is for love and thee. 

Louise, Louise, the river still is flowing. 
The sunlight's kiss is on the silent sea; 

And every breeze across the meadow blowing 

Repeats my cry, "Come back, come back to me." 



144 



APOLOGY. 

You ask me to pen you a rhyme. 

But the fair fickle muse seems to shun me; 

And when I would woo 

With a long sigh or two. 

She turns her pert back full upon me. 

1 sigh for a day or two more. 

And then I go smiling and singing. 

Forgetting the elf; 

When behold her sweet self 

Is beside me, all tearful and clinging. 

So mistress, believe when I say 

I would gladly comply with your tasking; 
But I know, if I do, 
I shall lose my dear shrew. 

And you will gain naught by the asking. 



145 



TO A FRIEND. 

The winged steed, perchance you know. 
Bends not to bridle, rein or bit; 

But wanders, uncontrolled, where grow 
The flowers of beauty, grace and wit. 

So, in the fields of common talk 
That round my daily pathway lie. 

He enters not, and I must walk 
Along with sombre company. 

Till, on a sudden day of grace. 

Beside my path good friends appear. 

With wit to beautify the place; 
And, lo! the fabled steed is here. 



147 



TO YOSEMITE. 

The silence of the centuries! 

The calm where doubtings cease! 
And over all the brooding of God's presence. 

And the spell of perfect peace. 

O Granite Cliffs that steadfast face the dawn! 

O Forest Kings that heard Creation's sigh ! 
Teach me thy simple creed, that, living, I 

May live like thee, and as serenely die. 



149 



EVENING SOLILOQUY. 

Cloud mass on cloud aspiring, 

Besiege the darkening dome; 
On broad wings wafting, tiring. 

The sea-birds wend them home, 
In rhythmic, solemn motion. 

While the last sunset ray 
Flings out, to earth and ocean. 

The farewell of the day. 
And, by the salt waves leaping 

In pulsing, endless quest. 
My idle vigil keeping. 

Alone with my unrest. 
In dimning light I ponder 

On crimson cloud and sky. 
And send my soul to wander 

In fancy, as would I, 
Where all is gold and glory. 

And all is sought and won. 



151 



Where told is all the story 

And all the toil is done; 
And gone is all the weeping. 

The fretting and the fears, 
The gleaning and the reaping. 

The laughter and the tears; 
For just beyond the veiling 

Of crimson cloud and sky. 
In calm that knows no wailing 

The happy Islands lie. 
Ah, here is no endeavor. 

And here is no emprise; 
The storm winds beat it never. 

The glad sun never dies; 
The dread years never bringing 

The burden of regret; 
Dead sorrows never clinging 

To days we would forget; 



152 



Nor fear of all the morrows 

Nor any sombre dawn; 
Confronting formless sorrows. 

With faces worn and wan. 
But, as with purpose single. 

The river seeks the sea. 
My life with love shall mingle 

And all be all in me; 
All peace and pleasure blending 

In one completed one; 
Through years that swing unending. 

Beneath an endless sun. 



153 



A LEGEND. 

(Lines written on the marriage of the daughter of a friend. ) 

The legends say, a knight once passed 
Amidst the ruins of the vast. 
Dead cities, where had once been set 
The thrones of kings whom men forget; 
On the huge mounds, where empires sleep. 
The simple shepherd fed his sheep. 
And in the halls, where kings held sway. 
The Arab children were at play; 
Menes and Pharoah, names sublime. 
Whose sceptres sunk to conquering time. 
Till now were left, to mark their fall, 
A few crude pictures on a wall. 
"Father," he cried, "and is there then 
No king immortal among men? 
No Sovereign Lord, whose pomp and power 
Shall mock at time and spurn the hour? 
Such would I choose my Lord to be. 
To such alone would bend the knee." 



155 



Then said the aged sage and kind, 

"That Lord exists, ride forth and find." 

Then forth he rode, on questing bound. 

And ever sought, but never found. 

Until, one day, upon an hour. 

Seeking repose within the bower 

Of the dear lady he loved best. 

He told her of his hopeless quest. 

She heard and turned her face away. 

Dreaming in far-off, gentle way. 

And then made answer, smiling bright, 

"Quest easy to achieve. Sir Knight.*' 

"Easy," he cried, "then do you know 

The Lord for whom I wander so?" 

When, on a sudden, as the flame 

Bursts in the tinder, answer came. 

For, looking in her eyes of blue. 

He saw Love throned there — and he knew. 



156 



So, Lady Fair, whose life crossed mine 
So brief a space beneath the pine. 
To-day the orange blossoms prove 
You, too, a subject of King Love — 
A member of a court whose sway 
Began upon earth's natal day. 
And will endure, 'neath every sun. 
Till the creation's race is run. 
Be not afraid, though mighty, he 
Is gentle as a child should be; 
And though so powerful, there lies 
The softest light within his eyes. 
Until you cross him, Lady Fair, 
But when you do, beware, beware! 
Then let me, as an offering. 
Upon this day this legend bring; 
And as the bards, in olden days. 
Lightened the feasting with their lays. 



157 



Such custom may this bard renew 
And laise this song to Love and you: 

SONG. 

In the blue of her eyes and the light of her smile 
Is a power that will fade from us never; 

Gone, gone are the kingdoms of Greece and the Nile, 
But the kingdom of Love is forever. 

To kings some may bow, some be subject to none. 

The custom is much as we make it; 
But how we all hasten to bow to the one. 

The yoke of this king, who would shake it? 

Full happy the lot which your future shall bring: 
May your burden of care be the lightest: 

And you at the court of our Master and King 
Among the bright Fair be the brightest. 



158 



SERENADE 

Deep in the shadows my boat I leave, 

Where the willow boughs hang over; 
Tangled grass of the fields I cleave, 

To the home — the home of my lover; 
There where the flowers in the garden blow, 

All the warm night air perfuming, 
There waits the girl of my heart, I know, 

For the bliss of our sweet communing. 

Sweet is the greeting the roses fling 

To the skies that bend above them; 
Sweet is the message the breezes bring 

To the flowers, the flowers that love them; 
Sweet are the notes of the wild bird's call 

To its mate the forest over; 
Dearer and sweeter and best of all 

Is the kiss, is the kiss of my lover. 



159 



ONCE ON A TIME. 

Once on a time I saw a rosebud growing, 

Upon a bush within a garden fair, 

While all around it tender buds were blowing. 

And gentle breezes passed and kissed it there; 

But still it gave no heed upon its stem, 

Nor ope'd its heart, nor listened aught to them, 

Until a wandering sunbeam, passing by. 

Approached and kissed it long and tenderly; 

And then the rose awoke to life and bloom. 

Awoke to sweetest beauty and perfume. 

And, on the breeze about the garden winging, 

I seemed to hear the echo of this singing; 

"'Tis the sun, tis' the sun that is master of all. 

When life to fruition is swelling, 

* Tis the sun, 'tis the sun that awakes with a call 

That is dulcet and dear yet compelling; 

' Tis the sun, 'tis the sun that must ever disclose 

Life's joys to the buds that are tender. 

And the heart of the virgin and blossoming rose 

Yields once in a gentle surrender." 



161 



Once on a time I saw a maiden straying 

The peaceful pathway of her life along, 

While all about were youthful fancies playing, 

And in the sunlight whispered love's sweet song; 

But still she gave no heed upon her way, 

Nor cared for ought the songs of love might say. 

Until her own dear lover, passing by, 

Approached and kissed her long and tenderly; 

And then the maid awoke to life and song. 

Awoke to beauty all the dear day long. 

And, in the breeze about her pathway winging, 

I seemed to hear the echo of this singing; 

"It is love, it is love that is master of all, 

When life to fruition is swelling, 

It is love, it is love that awakes with a call 

That is dulcet and dear yet compelling; 

It is love, it is love that must ever disclose 

The exquisite dreams and the tender, 

And the heart of the maid, like the heart of the rose, 

Yields once in a gentle surrender." 



162 



SANTA CLAUS' LAMENT. 

Once, when very far from home, 

On some business, I'll not mention. 
Wandering where white hears roam. 

Bears with not the best intention; 
Lo! I saw a house before me, 

Queer old house with peak and gable, 
And a sudden thought came o'er me, 

" I will enter if I'm able." 
Queer old door I passed me by it. 

Queer old rooms with queer old ceilings. 
And I tip-toed, silent, quiet, 

And I had such queer old feelings; 
Never was another mansion 

Built like this one, I am certain; 
'Twas a place of large expansion. 

At each door a great white curtain 
Hid the rooms beyond extended, 

Ror^r*-- ^;om which no echo sounded; 
\ :e or foot-fall blended 

1 the silence which surrounded. 



163 



All the walls, which sparkled whitely, 

Sprays of evergreen adorning 
Made it seem like Xmas rightly, 

Very early Xmas morning, 
Just before the fires are lighted, 

When the cold is something shocking, 
And half frozen, half affrighted 

You get up to hunt your stocking. 
And, what aided the illusion. 

Over all the place were lying 
Heaps of toys in wild confusion. 

Heaps, it really was most trying; 
There were guns, and dolls, and dragons. 

Kites, and bears with keys to wind them. 
Drums, and whips, and long red wagons, 

Sheep that had their tails behind them. 
Marbles, tops, and lovely houses 

Filled with furniture and dishes, 
Soldier men in bright red blouses, 

Little ponds with ducks and fishes, 



164 



Animals, that when you wanted, 

Moved their heads and started bleating, 
Chinese gods that all seemed haunted 

By the fate of over-eating; 
Noah's arks, with all the people 

Very stiff and most unsteady, 
One church with a tall sharp steeple. 

Barnyards, with the wagons ready. 
As I stood there thus astounded, 

All about me peering, prying. 
From a room adjacent sounded 

All at once a noise of crying; 
And astonishment came o'er me 

And I said " It's very certain 
Someone else is here before me 

In that room behind that curtain." 
So I went and peered, and peering, 

Very, very quiet keeping, 
Saw an aged man appearing 

Seated by a table weeping; 



165 



He was plump, and round, and hearty, 

With white hair and beard befitting, 
And this aged stricken party 

In a large white chair was sitting. 
" Sir," said I, at once addressing 

With respect, and bowing lowly, 
" Why this grief so deep distressing? " 

Then he raised his head up, slowly 
Spoke and said: " For years unnumbered, 

All the great, great, wide world over, 
While the little children slumbered, 

Have I wandered as a rover 
Bringing toys, and games and candy, 

To the little children sleeping; 
Filling stockings hanging handy, 

Loading trees when no one's peeping. 
Very early, Xmas morning. 

You can hear my hom a-blowing; 
Hear my sleigh-bells ringing waming. 

See me, too, if it's not snowing. 



166 



But, although I travel yearly, 

All the great big, round world over. 
And I love the children dearly. 

Not a child can I discover. 
Who has ever thought to send me 

Toy or game, or greeting kindly: 
Do you v^onder they offend me. 

Or that I am weeping blindly? 
Year by year, experience scorning. 

At the grate I've hung my stocking. 
But it's empty Xmas morning." 

Said I, " Santa, this is shocking; 
I am sure there's no intention 

Mongst the children to neglect you! 
If you only would make m.ention 
' Of the hour when they'd expect you. 
They'd be up and waiting surely 

With a very hearty greeting." 
But he shook his head demurely. 

Said: " I do not want a meeting; 



167 



What I want is to be sleeping 

All night long, and, just at morning, 
Climb out softly and go creeping 

To the mantel, without warning, 
Find my stocking brimming over 

Hanging by the mantel handy. 
Then creep back beneath the cover, 

Count the toys and eat the candy; 
This is what I've been expecting 

But the children all forget me." 
And I said, " This needs correcting: 

I will aid you if you'll let me." 
" Yes," said he, " Upon returning, 

Pray make mention of my wishes, 
Tell them how my soul is yearning 

For a drum or bright red dishes; 
For a gun, or belt and sabre. 

Or a lovely candy woman 
With a candy man as neighbor, 

Painted to look almost human; 



168 



Tell them such a gift will teach me 

They are thinking of me kindly; 
By express or mail 'twill reach me, 

Santa Claus, North Pole, will find me. 
Thus he spake, and speaking slowly, 

Quite unlooked-for and unaided 
From before my eyes, he wholly 

And he most completely faded: 
And I looked about uncertain. 

In a way confused, surprising. 
Till I saw my bed-room curtain, 

And the morning sun arising. 



169 



ENVOY. 

Ye songs are sung, and round about 
The people crowd beside me; 

Some few indeed give praises out. 
Ye balance, they deride me. 

I cannot say that I am blest 
By critic, rude oi proper. 

But will remark that I'll be blest 
If I give ought a copper. 

For any critique, bad or good. 
Or scanty praise or plenty. 

If only I have hit the mood 

Of young miss sweet and twenty. 



171 



YEARNING. 

There is a voice I almost hear 
Of one forever at my side ; 

A voice that fain would speak to me, 

And tell me all I wish to know ; 

How spring the Bowers, why grasses grow; 
What means the tossing of the sea 
And what the wide world's mystery ; 

And I — I know the words are clear ; 

But Oh, alas, I cannot hear. 

There is a land, I know, that lies 
Where not a boundary is set. 
A land serene, and Oh, so fair, 
Where clouds of doubt no longer roll 
To dim the sky and fright the soul ; 

And all I love are waiting there 
Transfigured in the sinless air ; 
And I — I know they signal me ; 
But Oh, alas, I cannot see. 



173 



KING'S SONG. 

My daughter, you are going to leave your pa; 
At least I am assuming that you are. 

For, if you propose to live 

With your daddy, I will give 
A tip that you have missed your car. 
For it breaks my heart with you to part. 

And to walk my way alone. 
But don't hesitate to go, for I think you know 

I have troubles enough of my own. 

If this thing is your husband that's to be, 
I wouldn't give a blessed sou marquee. 

For a dozen of his kind. 

Though it's well to bear in mind 

That he perhaps may useful be; 
For when you go to your home, you know. 

You won't forget your dad; 
And you'll say with regret, ''There are others yet, 

And the old man's not so bad." 



175 



Young man that is or used to be, 
I give to you my blessing, it is free; 

You'll need it, by and by, 

But I needn't tell you why. 
For I'm married, and look at me. 
And a bird will sing of love in the spring 

From the top of a sycamore tree; 
And you'll turn your eyes on your love with surprise. 

And you'll wish that bird to be. 

For love m.akes you feel like a bird, so I've heard. 

At least so the poets say; 
And though the fowl be a gander or an owl. 

It works just the same that way. 



176 



KING'S PREROGATIVE. 

Oh what a snap is a prerogative! 

It beats most any old thing; 
Nothing about it that's derogative 

To the position of a King. 
For a Senator may break loose some day, 

Or a President come it rather strong; 
But the King's all right, if he gets tight. 

For the King can do no wrong. 

You ought to see me when I'm wearing it 

Right side up with care; 
You'd be so impressed, I'm swearing it. 

You'd go crazy then and there. 
For that sort of thing just fits a King, 

And no one else, you see; 
So by day or night the King's all right. 

And the King, you know, means me. 



177 



LOVE. THY PINIONS. 

Love, thy pinions are as light as air. 

Flying from the dear one, far away; 
Swift thou speedest from the silent prayer. 

Swift from voice that bids thee stay. 
But when lover's heart to heart is crying. 

O'er the parting earth and o'er the sea. 
Love, oh. Love, how leaden is thy flying. 

There is none with wing as slow as thee. 

Love, thy fancy is as light as air. 

Straying as the wanton breezes stray; 
None can catch and bind or hold thee there. 

None by pleading prayer can bid thee stay. 
But when lover's heart would cease its yearning. 

Turned to other fonder hearts that be. 
Love, oh. Love, how quick is thy returning. 

There is none with wing as swift as thee. 



179 



I WOULDN'T MIND A LITTLE THING LIKE THAT 

When you've got a rooted sorrow that is gnawing at your core. 

And it seems that life will never smile again; 
When your eyes with tears are blinded and your heart with 
grief is sore. 

And your days and nights are filled with woe and pain; 
It is such a soothing solace when a friend of other days, 

A happy friend, round, jolly, gay and fat. 
Comes up and listens calmly to your tale of woe and says, 

*'I wouldn't mind a little thing like that." 

It was only in last August that I backed the losing team, 

And I played the slot machines without a pair; 
And I spoke the name of Stella in a quiet little dream. 

And awoke with fingers fastened in my hair. 
I told a friend about it, and he said, in mild surprise, 

"I wouldn't" — but I seized a handy bat. 
And brained him, and I whispered as I closed his dying eyes, 

"I wouldn't mind a little thing like that." 



181 



I can bear it like a stoic when another fellow dies. 

And I don't take on so badly when he's ill; 
And if ill-luck comes upon him I can say, "Oh, blast my eyes. 

But I really do not say it with a will. 
All such troubles are but trifles, simply trifles light as air; 

And I cannot see a thing to grumble at; 
I can say and just observe with what a calm, superior air, 

"I wouldn't mind a little thing like that." 



182 



SONG. 

(Princess and Lord Chamberlain) 

P. I am going to mate and marry ere this happy day is 

done. 

L. C. But you're not going to mate and marry me. 

P. There are husbands here in plenty, and I purpose 

to have one. 

L. C. Excuse me; I'm off to climb a tree, 

p. It would seem that any daughter of a kingly race 

had oughter 
Find a husband to her fancy if she'd only make a try. 
L. C. Though your grammar is defective, you've a power 

of invective 
That is marvelous, and therefore I confess that I 
feel shy. 



183 



Chorus — For he won't marry, though she would so. 

And she says "Yes" while he says "No"; 
And it's hard to arrange the thing, you know. 
When the maid is willing, but the man is slow. 

P. O'er my Love I'll cling and clamber, like an ivy 

on a wall. 
L. C. But you'll not cling and clamber over me. 

P. And it doesn't really matter who my love may 

be at all. 
L.C. I must mention my affections are not free. 



184 



p. It is really quite confusing, when it comes to pick 

and choosing; 
Mongst so many, it is difficult to know the best and 
worst. 
L. C. If you'll only make no mention of your desperate 

intention. 
You are bound to catch a husband, if he doesn't 
see you first. 

Chorus — For he won't marry, though she would so. 
And she says "Yes" while he says "No;" 
And it's hard to arrange the thing, you know, 
When the maid is willing, but the man is slow. 



185 



ECHO SONG. 

Echo ! Echo ! 
Fly away and speed them. 
Friends of mine who dwell afar; 
Echo ! Echo ! 
Tell them that I need them. 
Summon them in haste to war; 
Fly down the valley where the wild vines grow. 

Clamber up the mountain side. 
Spread the message that my warriors know. 
Spread the message far and wide. 
Halloo! Halloo! 
Halloo! Halloo! 
(Voices faintly from rear answer) 
Halloo! Halloo! 
Halloo! Halloo! 

Echo ! Echo ! 
Set the woods a-singing. 
Let them have my meaning clear; 
Echo ! Echo ! 



187 



From the rocks a-ringing, 
Sound me the message far and near. 
Search in the shallows where the warm waves flow. 

Call in the fishers from the tide; 
Spread the message that my warriors know. 
Spread the message far and wide. 
Halloo! Halloo! 
Halloo! Halloo! 
(Voices from without) 
Halloo! Halloo! 
Halloo! Halloo! 



188 



AT LAST. DEAR HEART. 

At last, Dear Heart, our ways so long divided 

Have met and joined and will not part again; 
The future has its story full provided; 

Will it be told with pleasure or with pain? 
With you my lot is now forever mingled. 

With you my life and fate forever rest, 
Joy, hopes and fears forever are commingled. 

Ah, tell me Darling, tell me, is it best? 

I would not change it now whatever betide me; 

Let life hereafter bring us joy or woe, 
I rest content in that thou art beside me. 

Where'er the pathway leads me I will go. 
So take me. Love, nor dream of my denying; 

Whate'er I have, whate'er I am is thine; 
Upon thy love and constancy relying. 

To thee I make the sacrifice divine. 

Oh, Power Unseen that draws the future o'er us. 
How bright or dark your offerings may be. 

May the united path that lies before us 
Divide no more through all eternity. 



189 



MORNING SONG. 

Far over the mountain the sunhght is breaking; 
Wide over the ocean the day is awaking; 
Deep into the west the grim shadows go flying; 
Day has returned and the darkness is dying. 

Fade away, fade away, 
Fade away night from the heavens above us; 

Welcome day, welcome day. 
Welcome the day and the sunbeams that love us. 

Fresh, fresh from the sea the first breeze is upspringing; 
Wide, wide through the forest the birds are all winging; 
Deep, deep in the shadow the fishers go sailing; 
Praise we and greet the glad morning with hailing. 

Fade away, fade away. 
Fade away night from the heavens above us ; 

Welcome day, welcome day, 
Welcome the day and the sunbeams that love us. 



191 



SONG OF THE ISLAND MAIDEN. 

Should you wonder, should you ponder. 

As you sit and muse the while. 
What the maid is, whether staid is, 

In this sunny southern isle; 
Should you question the suggestion 

That like other girls is she. 
And assever she is never 

Coy, I'd answer, "Well, may be." 

It may be, but we doubt it, yes we doubt it, oh. 
We hardly would believe it, if you told us so; 
For temperate or tropic it's the same, you know. 
And women are but women, wheresoe'er you go. 



193 



Though possessing taste in dressing 

That is scant, we must but own. 
And with fancies in our dances 

To a temperate clime unknown. 
The diverting sport of flirting 

Is not all a mystery; 
Don't deny it, simply try it. 

Are we artless? Well, may be. 

It may be, but we doubt it, yes we doubt it, oh, 
We hardly would believe it, if you told us so; 
For temperate or tropic it's the same, you know, 
And women are but women, wheresoe'er you go. 



194 



I'M SUCH A PECULIAR PERSON. 

I'm such a peculiar person. 

Nobody's quite like me; 
I'm a remarkable, odd individual. 

Yes, to a high degree. 
I have unusual thoughts and views. 

Wonderful, I declare ; 
Such eccentricity makes me undoubtedly 

Something extremely rare. 

Nobody thinks as I do. 

Nobody thinks so quite; 
I have remarkable thoughts all day. 

Singular dreams at night; 
All of my innermost attributes are 

Out of the common run; 
Midst an unusually commonplace populace 

I'm an exceptional one. 



195 



THERE'S A LITTLE SLIGHT OBJECTION. 

(Sung to Island Maidens who propose to marry a married man ) 

There's a little slight objection to the plan that you propose, 

Though we do not doubt your excellent intention; 
A trifling, simple obstacle that seems to interpose. 

Which perhaps you will excuse me if I mention. 
In social customs hereabouts of course you are au fait, 

But you haven't, no you've not the faintest notion 
Of the singular, I might say, of the very narrow way 

They view things on the other side the ocean. 

There's a little bit of cottage in a quiet little street. 

In a little bit of country not as this is; 
And, if you should chance to call there, you would very likely meet 

A little bit of person labeled Mrs. ; 
She is not very muscular, and isn't very stout, 

And she has a most deceptive, quiet smile, and 
If she should chance to hear you or to know what you're about, 

'T would be extremely crowded in this island. 



197 



There's a little bit of prejudice I really can't explain. 

For facts, not explanations, I am giving. 
Against a man who marries once and tries it on again 

While Mrs. No. One is still a-living. 
There's a little bit of building with a little bit of wall. 

Where if he should chance to go you couldn't lose him; 
But the board and room they furnish doesn't suit one's taste at all. 

So I think, my dears, you really must excuse him. 



198 



THE DICKY BIRD, 

When I was a child of scarcely three. 
The pink of fresh simplicity, 
I used to long, in a large degree. 
For a robin perched in an apple tree; 
And my parents said, fond parents they. 
With a manner debonnaire and gay: 
"Put salt on its tail, it's the only way. 
And you'll catch the dicky bird some day." 

Now I blush to confess that I wasted a pound 

Of salt in chasing that bird around. 

And finally learned what I'll be bound 

Some other folks here have also found. 

To my parents straight I told my tale. 

And loudly I raised my infant wail. 

"You can't do anything else but fail. 

For you can't put salt on a dicky bird's tail.** 



199 



I am older now by many a year, 

But sometimes think, with a feeling queer, 

I may have cause to pause and fear 

I have not yet learned that lesson clear. 

And I know, from all I've seen and heard, 

I'm not the only one absurd; 

But all the world like me, in a word. 

Is engaged in chasing the dicky bird. 



200 



THE YOUNG MAN. 

My mother said, when I left home. 

As mothers very often do, 
'My son, you're starting forth to roam. 

And I've confidence in you." 
So I went forth gay as a butterfly in May, 

And I said, quite joyfully: 
'I will conquer the world, at my feet it shall be hurled" — 

And "they didn't do a thing" to me ! 

It is a truly pleasant sight. 

And one you may have seen. 
When a young man goes the world to fight — 

A young man fresh and green; 
There's a gleam in his eye, but 'twill flicker by and by, 

And grow exceeding dim; 
They are waiting in a row, all the world that loves him so- 
And "they'll never do a thing" to him! 



201 



LEGISLATION. 

If you find things growing stupid and your life becoming dull, 

You must not get discouraged at the fact; 
You can easily correct it if you've any sort of pull; 

Just go to work and pass a little Act; 
It doesn't really matter if the thing is plain or not. 

Or the law says very clearly "Yes" or **No;" 
You needn't care for trifles such as that, why, not a jot; 

Just wind the thing up tight and let her go. 
For there's fun, oh, yes, there's fun in legislation; 

You really can't conceive it till you try; 
You must only treat the matter in the proper kind of manner. 

And won't you have excitement — well, oh, my! 



203 



I have been among the animals at Barnum's, once or twice. 

And with my umbrella poked the bear; 
And the interest I've awakened, well you might describe as nice, 

But with legislative fun it can't compare. 
You only need to take a bit of paper and a pen, 

And write some lines, just six or eight, no more; 
And get the boys to stand behind and push it hard, and then 

You'll hear the folks get up and let a roar. 
For there's fun, oh, yes, there's fun in legislation; 

You really can't conceive it till you try; 
You must only treat the matter in the proper kind of manner, 

And won't you have excitement — well, oh, my ! 



204 



COME, WILL YOU WED WITH ME? 

Duo — Dick and Wainui. 

(This is sung and danced. She first retreating, and he following. (Second 

verse) He retreating and she following.) 

Dick: Come, will you wed with me? 

Wainui: No, sir, not as soon as this. 

Dick: Will you my loved one be? 

Wainui: That, I fear, would be amiss. 

Dick: I cannot live alone. 

Wainui: You have done so till to-day. 

Dick: I will be true, My Own. 

Wainui: That is what all lovers say. 

(Wainui sings alone) : 

Vows declared while love is burning 
Are not vows when love is turning; 
Haste away with all your yearning, 
I still answer, "Nay, nay, nay." 



205 



Dick: Faith, then, I'll leave you. Dear. 
Wainui, No, Sir, not as soon as this. 

Dick: You do not love, 'tis clear. 
Wainui: You, I fear, my meaning miss. 

Dick: I go to live alone. 
Wainui: No, you shall not from to-day. 

Dick: So fare you well, My Own. 
Wainui: That is not what lovers say. 

(Wainui sings alone) : 

Vows declared while love is leading 
Are the only vows worth heeding. 
So if you'll renew your pleading 
I will answer "Yea, yea, yea." 



206 



YOU'RE IT. 

In the days of early boyhood, when all rosy was Life's sun, 

When many were the joys and few the labors. 
On summer afternoons when school was over, oh, what fun 

To frolic with the youthful friends and neighbors. 
You stood in line together barefoot, freckle -faced and red, 

While one among you mystic words repeated; 
When all at once he pointed at you suddenly and said 
What all the rest, with joyous shouting, greeted: 
"You're it, you're it," 
In a very interesting game; 
Y ou re it, you re it. 
There'll be some excitement, just the same. 
And you go tip-toeing, peeking 
Round the corners, softly sneaking. 
For the game is hide-and-seeking — 
Yes, and "you're it." 



207 



In other days grown older when you've come to man's estate. 

You put these simple boyish sports behind you; 
You have extreme ambitions and your ideas grow so great 

It's difficult for friends or kin to find you. 
And everything is rosy, there is romance in the land, 

Each female form is clad in golden glory; 
Till you meet the only female, and you take her by the hand. 

And tell the old and interesting story, 

Y ou re it, you re it, 
In a very interesting game; 
You re it, you re it. 
There'll be some excitement, just the same. 
For the way the pink horizon 
That you used to set your eyes on 
Can vanish, will surprise one — 
Yes, when "you're it." 



208 



You fix mature affection on a charming little dear. 

Whose early years with sorrow have been blighted; 
She's not a common person, that is very, very clear. 

In thoughts and high ideals you're united. 
She seems to be the presence you have needed all the while, 

She lends to life what heretofore's been lacking; 
She has her aspirations, she informs you with a smile. 

And you gladly, very gladly, furnish backing. 

Y ou re it, you re it. 

In a very interesting game; 
"You're it," "you're it," 

There'll be some excitement, just the same. 
With justice stern pursuing 
They will read your billing, cooing. 
And they'll know what you've been doing — 
Yes, when "you're it." 



209 



OH DAYS ON THE GOLDEN SANDS. 

Oh days on the golden sands. 

Oh nights by the shore. 
Love told in the clasping hands. 

Who'd hunger for more? 
Oh days in the tropic shade. 

Safe hid from the sun, 
Happy the lover and island maid. 

Their wooing begun. 

Oh love in the golden isle. 

Far hid in the sea, 
Life passes in dreams the while 

Suns smile upon thee. 
Oh isle where the breezes blow 

Soft welcome to bliss, 
Happy the lover and maiden who know 

Love's wakening kiss. 



211 



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